Clown Prince and Princess
by Amledo
Summary: Simply because the nolanverse didn't have a Harley Quinn, and I want her to be just as damaged as the Joker.Joker's OOC, can't do Ledger's Joker, I'd fail. M for later lemon and touchy subject matter.
1. Listening to people who aren't there

(A/N: I wanted Harley to have an Intro in the Nolanverse, but she didn't get one. I will likely never actually call her Harley Quinn, but you know. OOC I know, and I don't care 'cuz no one can write Ledger's Joker. I don't own it so don't sue me.)

Chapter 1—Listening to People who aren't There

It was still dark out, the smog still hung low in the frigid air and it stung her lungs. No amount of time in the city was going to make her used to the conditions she was living in, homeless or not. She sighed and raked her hair back from her face, well no going back to sleep once she had managed to be awake, that wasn't something that she believed in. Pulling the snarled clumps of brown hair into a pony tail she stretched and cracked her back before hauling herself up and over the side of the Dumpster she slept in. It was unused, and though it was next to an abandoned building she knew that breaking in would give her no benefits, the alarms were still wired and glowing softly.

A yawn caused her to pause, she could tell by the particular orange tinge to the clouds and smog that it was just about five in the morning, the sun would be up in less than an hour and a half She brushed her clothes off, dust was common when living in a rust covered Dumpster. The careworn winter coat that she wore was all that kept her warm, her clothes were a bit peculiar for a homeless girl but she had taken what the shelter had offered her. Being so slender things rarely fit her when they were donated, so a used three-piece suit (likely belonging to some teenage boy who grew too quickly) accommodated her just fine. The heavy work boots and calf-length black jacket threw off the picture just slightly and it suited her just fine.

Her pale green eyes glittered in the ambient light as she took careful stock of the people passing by on the street. She didn't want any of the other street dwellers to know that her Dumpster was worth the effort, it was hers and she had defended it for a long time. Not seeing anyone, she took off into the streets, she was going to find food, and going to a soup kitchen would mean she was unable to look out for herself. Really the only reason she had accepted the clothes was because a very nice man (if a little too posh for her taste) had placed them in her hands and told her that young women needed to take care of themselves. It reminded her of her father telling her much the same thing when she was little so she took the odd get up. But the olive green of the suit fit with her eyes just fine so she did her best to convince herself that it was a good fashion choice.

It sure was cold out, she supposed that winter really was setting in, and that upset her. It was her hands, they were so cold, she could deal with her face falling off, it was already ugly, but her hands protected her. So she set a goal for that day, to steal a pair of gloves, preferably gloves that she could have movement in, but she knew that she didn't really have a reason to be picky. After all, when you'd lived on the street next to all your life like she had, things were just clearer to you. But she had moved into the city recently, not six months prior at the start of spring and it really hadn't occurred to her to bring her things with her. For some reason she thought that the cold wouldn't be as penetrating with so many tall buildings around. Well, she had learned something in that, she was so very wrong. She shivered and tucked her hands under her arm pits to keep them warm, how had the cold sunk in so deeply?

"Do you think that the stars still shine under all that haze? I doubt it. It could be a pretty place if you got to see the sky once in awhile. It's just a city, thousand others just like it. Think they have sky? Nope, couldn't be, smog and pollution and tall buildings. You paint a lovely picture. That's my job, not that it is of any concern to you. Should be, my body," her voice softly carried on, a vocal conversation with her internal voices. She hated her voices, but they lived in her head and they were not any part of her controllable mind. At least they kept her company; it wasn't like they drove her to do anything unthinkable. But she did fear that it would progress, after all it was because her parents were both locked up in an asylum that she was living on the streets, and had been since she was seven. For the time though, she didn't care, gloves were her priority. She stared blandly across the street, a man of medium height and very slight build (though his entire presence commanded strength) stood with his back to her addressing a group of much larger men.

It may not have been the best idea, but the gloves hanging out of his suit jacket were tempting and likely one of the easiest steals she would ever have. So she casually crossed the street and came up behind him, pondering only for a moment why he would wear such a large amount of purple before considering her amount of green and shrugging it off. Swiftly she reached out and grasped the gloves, pulling them into her hands and almost entirely removing them from his pocket before she found herself pressed against his chest with a knife at her throat. She swallowed delicately, afraid to add too much pressure to the lethal object as it rested against her neck.


	2. Crazy Like That

(A/N: Still don't own it)

Chapter 2—Crazy Like That

"What have we here?" he hissed and she stood stock still, her eyes fixed forward, as she contemplated what to say. Escape kept intruding on her thoughts though and she found her voices conducting that little operation as they set her to the task of explaining herself to him.

"Just a stray dog, stealing scraps to preserve itself," she replied in a low and measured voice, she was used to being threatened, though never from behind. She supposed that she deserved it though because she was the one who had initially come up from behind, and sneakiness did not deserve to be repaid with a face to face encounter. Waiting for him to respond was agonizing; she wanted him to say something, to cut her throat, to do anything but stay silent. It was silence that hated her the most, the darkness when she couldn't even hear the voices of her mind. How could he have the strength to hold her like that? Her toes were barely on the ground, and yet he held her rock steady and the knife never grew closer to her throat. So she was right, he was immensely strong, and it frightened her like nothing else ever had. Hell she didn't get scared and there she was speechless with fright.

"A stray dog huh? What gives you the right to touch what belongs to me?"

"Because that is the point of stealing, if you leave something alone just because it belongs to someone then how can it be stealing at all?" she retaliated, her eyes gleaming a little more brightly, she was going to make him angry but the voices didn't care. His grip tightened on her though she thought that she felt the knife relax slightly, it was going to be a very long day. At least the voices would have a new scenario to play with to see just who was in control, and though most of the people in her head were male, she knew that even they wouldn't be able to blow the thing out of proportion with their egos.

"I didn't say belongs to someone, I said me, it's mine. I own it, my stuff. Get the idea?" he said calmly though strange laughing marred his speech and made him seem a little hasty. Of course she realized that the possibility of him being mentally ill was quite high, she liked her odds just a little more when it came to that. She could out crazy the craziest and she had yet to meet her match. She summoned a few of her voices and told them to go wild, because while she couldn't make them go away she sure as hell could let them loose.

"Oh, we get the idea, but we own our body. You really should keep your hands off and your knives away. We bite, like the dog we are. You might taste good, we might eat you for breakfast and take what you claim as yours anyway because once you are dead it isn't yours anymore," she heard her mouth say and grinned, so it was Eric and Carmine that were speaking, she knew that they could frighten him. She trusted them to scare most anyone away from her; they had been with her since the disease had announced itself at puberty. It was Eric that had forced away most of the voices that wished her dead and Carmine that had taught her to live with their presence.

"But neither is your body once I kill you, right?" he said and she smiled, he was fun already, she liked him. Not every day did someone present such a challenge to the people in her head, or even her own mind she quite liked it.

"Yeah, but we are a lot less fun dead. You couldn't have much fun with us, no not at all," she said in reply and wriggled free of his grasp when he paused to adjust the grip he had on her and the knife. She smiled at him, her green eyes sparkling before shock registered when she saw his face. Perhaps that was why he looked the way he did, his expression was muddled, confused. Never had she found someone else with smiling scars, or a person with nearly the volume of scars that she wore, and damn was he beautiful. Collectively, she and her voices cursed in her head, they couldn't kill crazy like that, not the intensity of insanity burning in those brown eyes. They sighed, well; it was a good life while it lasted.


	3. We Like Him

(A/N: Don't own it)

Chapter 3—We Like Him

"You are a girl?" he stated at last and she growled; her eyes hard, she didn't look that masculine, or at least she hoped she didn't. But why bother to reply? She bolted. Swift and smooth, she ran like a cheetah away from him and the strange face that reminded her of her own. It was a cruel sight, like a mirror that she couldn't smash. Of all her scars, the ones that smiled were the worst. Vividly she remembered the night that she had gotten them.

_Warm summer air filled her lungs; the junk yard seemed a good place to find a mattress to spend the night on. She strode through the place, trying to look like she belonged; it was dangerous though it didn't matter to her. People in junk yards were generally proud of their crap and she didn't care to meet one of those types. So invested in treading lightly and just finding a mattress was she that she didn't notice someone behind her until the garrote was almost around her throat. She ducked, but they pulled up and back hard, it sliced roughly through her cheeks and lodged near her jaw's hinge point. Most of the rest of that night was dedicated to severe physical abuse, from rape to torture and beatings in between. She escaped the next morning and left that town, it was the first time of many that she had switched cities. _

Her body lurched forward and pain split her open. A knife to the back, he had a good arm to throw it like that. Defiantly she pulled his gloves on as she fell to the ground, what was the point of stealing if she couldn't enjoy her plunder? Bored and in pain she relaxed on the ground, blood was seeping from the wound, and the knife was lodged in there pretty good, just through the meat of the place between her neck and shoulder. It was going to be awhile before it healed enough for her to pull herself up into the Dumpster. She could hear his confident footsteps, slow, deliberate and ever approaching. The knife slipped from her flesh and a powerful hand drug her to her knees by her hair.

"They are on my person, they belong to me," she declared and wrestled her head free of his grasp, what did he think she was? It didn't matter, she wasn't about to put up with it and that was that. Her shoulder ached but she rose to her feet and looked him in the eyes, it wasn't that she thought she was any better than he was, but she didn't want to die. Still silent he seemed to observe her, and she stared right back, bleeding or not she refused to be intimidated.

"You are not a normal woman I surmise. So, satiate my curiosity, where did you come from, how'd you get those scars? Who are you?" he said and she raised an eyebrow, he was curious? How was she even interesting enough to merit his curiosity, and damn was he beautiful, her brain got turned around just thinking about him. It was odd, for Eric and Carmine, a man, as crazy as she was, if not more so, they simply didn't know how to deal with it. Plus, she was attracted to him, and that would never end well for anyone and they knew that it was likely going to get her killed. But it was still her body, and they were going to give her what she wanted.

"Where I come from and who I am, even the reason behind my scars, what does it matter? Who I am now, what I became, a stray, a cast off of society, you know the answers to your own questions if you just stop to think about it. After all, deep down, every stray dog, every single person that every winds up as crazy as you or I, there is a reason that never needs a name," she told him gently, her hands staying down even though she really wanted to hold the wound closed. It was bleeding freely at that point.

"I see, well, I have met my match. Come along," he said and clapped her viciously on the wound, causing her eyes to squeeze shut in pain and white lights to dance around in her brain as he marched her back from where they had emerged. She knew that she wasn't going to get away from him again, and in the back of her mind she started a clock, counting the time that he allowed her to live. Her voices would keep track of it as they rapidly worked out how to get her out of the situation or at the very least to make it better for her.

"Boss? Are we killing her?"

"Oh no, no we won't be killing her, she's mine," he said calmly to one of the men and kissed her possessively on the mouth. She reacted to this in the way she believed would surprise him the most, she kissed him back, fiercely her eyes shining with lethality as he pulled back and smiled at her. Oh, the things that they were going to push one another to in that relationship. She was tempted to stay just to make him break, she knew that he couldn't get around her defenses, and well it just sounded like fun.

"You wish I were yours," she declared softly and sat delicately on a trash can, her hand under her shirt, pushing against the wound. Inspiration struck her and she worked the tie over her head, deftly securing it over her shirt about the bloody gash. She wasn't going to bleed to death, even if she had let it go such a wound couldn't end her life, but she disliked the feeling of blood pulsing down her back and chest. It felt odd, his shining brown eyes watched her intently and she smiled, he was beautiful to look at.

"Boys, I leave this to you, I'm going to escort my new charge home and I expect the work to be done," the man said and took her roughly by the arm, her muscles moving to follow him swiftly so that she didn't fall. Vaguely she wondered what the nature of his work was as he toted her along in the cold morning air, but after a time the grip became lax and his hand slowly slid down to take hold of hers in a gentle manner. The pain was still intense but she relaxed, Carmine and Eric confused about the situation to the point of consulting the others that dwelt in her head. He was perhaps as unpredictable as she.


	4. He's a Strange One

(A/N: Do I have to say it? Not mine)

Chapter 4—He's a Strange One

"A hospital?" she asked delicately and leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes glassy from blocking the pain from her mind.

"Yes, you need stitches and I am not as cruel as I might seem. Tell me your name," he breathed in her ear, his strong arms holding her up and making her even closer to him, it made her heart race. She didn't want to tell him, no one had spoken it to her aloud since they took her parents away from her.

"Carley Finn, that's my name. Tell me yours," she said delicately, her eyes shifting slowly to his as he stroked her hair, his own locks were a silky brown, and she was infatuated.

"I'm Jack Roker, but only you and I know that okay? Never tell any of the guys that I work with," he said quickly and she nodded as her mind began to wander on the waves of pain. He carried her with him, his strong arms were all that held her up and she stared at him with a hazy little smile. People in the hospital looked at them with mild confusion and then she was brought to the ER and began to stitch her up, very few questions asked, until…

"How did this happen?"

"Big brother…" she said haltingly and looked him in the eyes, he just sighed and ruffled her hair before tucking her head under his. They were fabulous liars together, and she liked the idea. But he could answer for her.

"You have to understand Miss, my little sister, my Carley spends a lot of time hungry. And she broke, she stole food from a convenience store. But she is really still a kid just 19, and Batman, he doesn't care. Crime is crime to him, I'm sorry, I know he is supposed to protect us…" Jack stated and cradled Carley close as she gave a little sob, her face against his chest. She knew what he was getting at and she knew who he was though typically his face was painted, the Joker was the one who held her close. The woman who had stitched her up gave a little cluck of her tongue and sighed as Carley lifted her head and stared into her eyes.

"I'm not bad, I promise, it just hurts to be so hungry. I'm sorry Jackie, I didn't mean to get in trouble," she whimpered and the Joker grinned inwardly, what a valuable little gem he had found. He embraced her gently, her warm body pressed against his, just as if he was the protective big brother, delicately holding her in his arms. The visible pain in the nurse's eyes was enough, he knew that she felt for the fragile little girl bound in her big brother's arms as her head rested on his chest.

"Well, we can file a police report…"

"No, he'll come after her then, I just know it. We'll manage, right Carley?" he said gently and she nodded, her smile gentle though shaky, he wanted to kiss her lips. Part of him wanted to reassure her that he was not going to hurt her like that again. It made no sense to him, but the little woman who had so defiantly spat her own insanity back in his face made him feel a desperate urge to defend her. The nurse just nodded gently and told them that a doctor would be by to check on her and then send them on their way before vanishing.

"Thanks Jack. It still hurts like a bitch though," she said as he enfolded her more tightly in his arms. It didn't occur to her that he was crying until she felt the moisture on her cheek. She looked up and touched his cheek, brushing the tears away and pondering them. Leaning up she kissed him on the chin, her eyes brilliant with a shine that he didn't recognize.

"I am sorry, my temper…I won't let it happen again. But please do stay with me from now on. I can take care of you," he told her softly and pulled her against his chest once again. He smiled inwardly, the woman fit so perfectly in his arms, he wanted her to be his, and though he was not capable of what people considered love, he knew that the girl would understand.


	5. Understanding

(A/N: Don't own it. I'll remind you that it's out of character. But this is how I like to imagine he would behave toward a Harley with a brain. LEMON! You've been warned)

Chapter 5—Understanding

"Hello, are we doing a little better now?" the doctor walked in as Carley pulled out of the Joker's embrace. She gave the man in the white coat a very shaky smile, her eyes sparkling as he stood in front of her.

"I think that I'm as good as I can be," she told him and the man nodded simple as could be he left her with a bottle of pain pills and a few sets of fresh wrappings for her wound. It was stitched closed but that wouldn't stop infection. They thanked the doctor and left the hospital, the Joker escorted her gently, his hand in hers as they entered his warehouse home. It was strange just to be inside a place that resembled a home, and she smiled at the fact that it was the same supposedly abandoned building that her Dumpster was next to. So that was why all of the security still worked.

"Carley, come here," the Joker said and she obeyed, her eyes unfocused due to the gnawing hunger in her gut. She went to his arms and accepted his kiss, hasty though it was she still felt some semblance of compassion and she kissed him back. When they broke away from each other she knew that she had found someone that she just couldn't leave behind. At least Eric and Carmine understood that and they weren't about to stop her from having what she wanted, even if she wound up dead. "Now how about we get some food in you?" he added and gave her a gentle kiss. She moaned softly as he nipped at her lip before bringing her along to find some food.

"Jack, wait," she pulled him to a stop and he touched the side of her face, knowing that she recognized him before she opened her mouth. "I know that you are the Joker, I just want you to know that I'm never going to rat you out or anything like that," she said delicately and he nodded. He softly cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her lips, enjoying the soft and yielding flesh as she responded.

"I knew that already, quiet your mind beautiful one. You don't stir violence in me, I regret harming you. Now, about that growling stomach," he said and sat her down at what was likely a stolen kitchen table and quickly placed a bowl of soup in front of her before going off to make more. By the time she was done with the soup he had a plate of lunchmeat sandwiches for them to share and a large glass of milk for her. She thanked him hastily before scrambling to finish her food and fill her stomach. It went quickly for her, and she sat back content.

"You're a good cook," she told him softly, he grinned lopsidedly; her eyes took in his scars. He touched his face critically, and then regarded hers; at least they looked the same. Leaving the mess to the next day he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed, kissing her all the time. She knew what such interest meant, and she actually enjoyed it when he took her, it was the closest thing that she had ever known to making love. And laying with him afterwards, her body tangled in his arms and the sheets bound around them, she felt safe.

"I didn't mean to rush things, did I hurt you?" he asked delicately and she gave him a kiss.

"Jack that was the first time I hadn't been raped. You couldn't have hurt me if you tried. Besides, it was good," she told him delicately and captured his lips with her own, her hands clutching at his slender waist. He frowned and ran his fingers over her skin. Desperately he wanted to say something to her, but he was inexperienced with such matters.

"I…Carley I would never want to hurt you like that. You are so beautiful, and I just," he shook his head and kissed her mouth again. He rolled her under himself once again, making her cry out as he made love to her again. Panting with the effort and the excitement she clutched his slim body to herself and moaned weakly. They fell asleep not long after, bodies still connected minds exhausted.

(Well there it was, next chapter is the last. Sorry if you don't like it but oh well, I told you it was OOC.)


	6. You've Changed

(A/N: Don't own it, I think this is the last chapter, unless someone really wants more.)

Chapter 6—You've Changed

When she woke the next day she was still tangled up in the Joker's limbs, and she stared at him, taking in the beauty and pain that was so clearly etched into his face. He seemed almost peaceful in his sleep, but she knew from her own fucked up life that he wasn't. It was a wonder that she had made it through the night alive, and to her amusement he had a slight giggle that came with his snore. Unconsciously she stroked his hair, twisting the strands about her fingers until he stirred enough to crack an eye at her.

"Woman, it is much too early to be awake, get back down here," he stated softly and she smiled at him, it was strange to hear anyone speak to her in such a way, she assumed that violence was truly not his pursuit with her. She just shook her head after a moment and kissed him, his lips yielding to her advances and easily parting when her tongue begged entrance, he tasted good.

"I have to change my bandages darling, want me to get a nasty infection?" she said and tickled his chin like he was a child. He rolled his eyes at such strange affection and sat up, pulling her close as he planted yet another kiss on her lips.

"Let me help then. Cuz unless those voices can see behind you for you, there's no helping missing the right spot," he told her stroking her hair and sighing, just what was he doing? Why was he behaving like that around the girl? Why wasn't he killing her? Why didn't he want to hurt her? It bugged him but he knew that not once but twice he had made love to the woman in his arms last night, he didn't love…the harlequin of hate did not love. Yet…he breathed in her scent and sighed, gently changing the bandages on the wound that he had caused. Delicately he bound her in his arms and held her close, kissing her cheek and squeezing his eyes shut, fear was not part of his life.

"Tell me what's wrong, Joker, tell me what's wrong," she said, stroking his long shaggy hair, loving the way it felt, he was still so strange to her. When he looked into her eyes, his brown orbs glowing softly, she could see that he was struggling with something. She saw it often in her own eyes, and she knew that people like them didn't make friends or have romantic trysts. All that they were, murderers, thieves, psychopaths, nothing that ever meshed well, she half expected those hands to close around her throat as they slid over her skin. But his touch stopped at her face and he leaned in, very carefully placing a kiss against her lips, as if she would shatter were he to put any more pressure against them. It qualified as one of the most beautiful things that had ever happened to her. She thought that she would cry, but he held her soul together, patching a wound she didn't know was there.

"I found my Queen of Hearts," he told her softly, kissing her again and holding her as tightly as he dared, all that he had was passion for her. She let out a delicate moan and touched his bare skin, unfazed by the scars that made thick bands over his flesh. In the back of her mind she knew that it meant that he was in love with her, and she struggled to be able to say the words back, because she did love him.

"I mean that much to you?" she asked the delicate question, expecting to be cast away or for him to get offended. He simply nodded and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"You mean everything," he told her, sure of it at last, love yes love. The Joker had broken with tradition and it was strange to him, but he loved the little crazy woman.

"Well, I am glad. You are all and everything that I have ever wanted," she said delicately, kissing him passionately because she did love him.

(A/N: Done! Yippee! Well, let me know if you want a sequel.)


End file.
